


Hydatomancy

by Kharnesh



Series: Lovelace & Bane [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Divination, Le Rapt D'Europe, Loss of Parent(s), Magic Simon Lewis, Symbolism, this is the start of something beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:45:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kharnesh/pseuds/Kharnesh
Summary: Hydatomancy - The art of divination through the use of rainwater. Magnus Bane was not what Elaine Lewis had been expecting, but he was exactly what Simon Lewis had been hoping for.





	

Magnus Bane was not what Elaine Lewis had been expecting.

When she had called to inquire about the newspaper advertisement for ‘magic lessons’ right under the daily comics, she had been expecting someone a little more sketchy. Maybe someone living in a beat up trailer under a bridge, or someone with a room full of smiling ventriloquist dummies. She had not, however, been expecting a reassuring voice at the end of the line that soothed all her fears or the sparkling man with shining eyes that welcomed her and her son to his home.

Elaine Lewis needed to get Simon out of the house. His father, her husband, had passed recently, and she knew she was slipping into a chill. Melancholy was not an unfamiliar companion to her, and she could already feel it starting to dig its numbing claws into her mind.

Simon was so young and in need of so much nurturing, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to give him what he needed anymore. She wasn’t going to be there when he needed her most, and that broke her heart, but it did nothing to slow the beast that was soon to overtake her.

She should have sent Rebecca and Simon to stay with her parents or enrolled them in a boarding school, but she couldn’t bear the thought of her children living so far away. She should have asked her doctor for a referral to a therapist, but shame stayed her hand. She should have come up with a better solution, a way for their lives to continue on as they had before the accident, but she couldn’t.

Elaine Lewis needed to get Simon out of the house, and asking Magnus Bane for help was the only thing she could think of to do.

 

Elaine Lewis was not what Magnus Bane had been expecting.

He hadn’t actually expected anyone to inquire after his ‘magic lessons’ advertisement. There were very few in the Shadow World of Brooklyn, if not the world, who did not know who he was, and no small crystal ball, the words “MAGNUS BANE: MAGIC LESSONS,” or his phone number under a mediocre comic strip were really going to get his name out to the unaware. He didn’t even know why he had posted it. It had been a whim maybe, something he had dreamt of.

Yes, a dream. An endless ocean painted in streaks of orange and violet and silver; Magnus could see that in his mind’s eye. Whatever the reason, the ad had been posted, and an inquiry had been made.

It was a surprise to him when he picked up his ringing phone one day and an unsure voice greeted him.

Elaine Lewis needed to get her son out of her home, and she saw seeking Magnus’ aid as the best way to make that happen.

Magnus should have said no, he should have declined any offer or idea she presented, but he didn’t. He sat back in his chair and looked at the boy as Elaine spoke. Brown hair, dark eyes, glasses sliding down the soft skin of his small nose. Magnus could imagine orange in his hair, violet in his eyes, and silver in his skin.

“It’ll be like an apprenticeship, a medieval one,” he said. “I won’t even charge a fee.”

They shook on it, and Magnus felt like he was wading through a bowl of jello, thick gelatin breaking softly against his face. This wasn’t a normal arrangement for warlocks. It wasn’t even a normal arrangements for mundanes. There was nothing normal about what was happening, but the gelatin was filling his mouth and ears, making everything feel alright.

He grabbed Elaine’s hand as she turned to leave.

“Do you trust me?”

“I-” She looked down at her son for a moment before returning her eyes to Magnus. “Yes, I do.” She said it almost like a question; a little twist at the end of a statement. There was gelatin in her brain too, he surmised. A crease appeared between her brows, and she nodded. “I trust you.”

“Until tomorrow, then.”

“Until tomorrow.”

 

Magnus Bane was exactly what Simon Lewis had been hoping for.

The “MAGNUS BANE: MAGIC LESSONS” advertisement had caught his eye as he perused the morning comics. It was unremarkable; a fortune ball, some text, and a phone number all printed in smudging black ink, but it shone to Simon. It had shimmered gold and pink and green, and reminded him of peonies and fresh air and home. Nothing had felt like home since his father had passed.

His mother called to make an inquiry without putting up her usual arguments when he asked. Simon knew money was tight, he knew time was better spent at school, he knew that anything beyond the perfunctory routine was extravagant and unnecessary, but she still called when he asked.

Magnus Bane’s home was the pinnacle of extravagant and unnecessary. Crushed silk curtains covered huge bay windows, thickly embroidered cushions were thrown haphazardly over italian leather chaise lounges and loveseats. The floors were made of ebony and purpleheart, and the interior of the house seemed to jut and curve in places that conflicted with the exterior. Simon’s mother would have turned the corners of her mouth down at the obvious excess if she had been acting normally, but she hadn’t, so her mouth stayed stiff in a straight line.

Magnus Bane looked like he was made to lounge on a couch, his limbs delicately splayed, with a drink in his hand. He hadn’t been doing that, though. His legs looked like they were glued together at the inseams, knees bent at a ninety degree angle. His hands were clasped in his lap, and his spine was pressed firmly into the back of the armchair. He nodded as Simon’s mother spoke, but he kept his eyes on Simon, and Simon kept his eyes on him.

Magnus Bane was beautiful. There was no other way Simon could describe him. The way he breathed reminded Simon of peonies. The way he nodded his head reminded Simon of fresh air. The way he looked at Simon assessingly reminded Simon of home. Simon imagined he could see gold in Magnus’ hair, pink in Magnus’ eyes, and green in Magnus’ skin.

Magnus asked Simon’s mother if she trusted him. She looked down at Simon, and he smiled. Of course she did. Simon trusted Magnus, so she trusted Magnus. Simon didn’t think she really understand that, though.

There was a man sitting in one of the opulent chairs with a briefcase full of papers the next time they went to Magnus’ home. Simon’s mother and Magnus spent a long time signing their names again and again, different papers and different dotted lines, but always signing and signing.

Simon sat quietly on a loveseat, feet swinging idly. There was a painting on the wall opposite him, and he spent his time looking at it. _Le Rapt D’Europe_ by Jean-Baptiste Marie Pierre, his mind supplied. _The Rape of Europa_. It looked genuine, and Simon wished he could touch his fingertips to the paint and feel the texture of the brushstrokes. He could almost feel his hand cramping from holding the paintbrush to tightly and the smudges of dry paint cracking on his cheeks.

The briefcase snapped closed, and the man with the papers left. Simon’s mother and Magnus moved his suitcase into another room, and then they stood in silence. Simon know it was time to say goodbye, but his mother hesitated at the door. If she had been acting normally, she would have swept him up into her arms, taken them both home, and sworn to him that she would never leave him, but she hadn’t. Instead, she knelt down and kissed his head.

“I love you, Simon.”

The door closed, and Simon watched her fade away through the window. Magnus stood behind him, ethereal, yet present.

“I’m not going to see her again.”

“No?” Magnus asked. The twist at the end was barely there.

Rivulets of rain drew patterns on the window pane, and Simon touched his fingertips to the cool glass. He could feel a bottle’s worth of pills held tightly in his sweaty hand and the burn of alcohol at the back of his throat. He traced the path of a fat raindrop with the pad of his finger.

“No.”

 

Simon Lewis was never what anyone expected.

How could he be? Everyone knew about Lovelace, the protege of Bane. They had all heard the exaggerated stories of how he had banished the Greater Demon Abbadon with a single arrow and how he had personally wrestled the Mortal Cup from the hands of Valentine. Everyone had heard how he was the greatest non-warlock to ever wield magic and how all those who stood before him trembled beneath his piercing gaze. With that kind of build up, there was no way Simon could ever live up to their expectations.

Thickly rimmed glasses and graphic tees didn’t do much to convey his magical prowess, but he was what he was, and he would wear what he would wear. The expectations of others had never been much of a priority to him. When Magnus looked at him, though, he hoped he was not weighed and found wanting.

When Magnus looked at him, he wasn’t Lovelace, the Most Magical of Magics. He wasn’t “That Upstart,” as Camille had once called him, voice green with oozing envy. He wasn’t even Simon Lewis, pitied orphan and griever. When Magnus looked at him, he was just Simon, the little six year old boy that Magnus had swept up into his arms, taken into his home, and sworn to never leave alone.

Simon may have never been what anyone expected, but he was always someone that Magnus loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my mother for being my beta on this piece.
> 
> This is the first installment in my _Lovelace and Bane_ series. I hope you all enjoy the direction I take this interpretation.


End file.
